


The Fencing Princess

by hrhrionastar



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-24
Updated: 2011-11-24
Packaged: 2017-10-26 11:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrhrionastar/pseuds/hrhrionastar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the throneland Family Remix challenge. Arya Baratheon hates embroidery, but Queen Cersei doesn't mind about her daughter's favorite Needle as much as she should.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fencing Princess

"She is a troublemaker, your Grace," the Septa said insistently. "The Princess Arya never sits still, refuses to embroider, and is now demanding fencing lessons!"

It was hard to tell which lapse in proper young ladyhood the Septa deprecated most, Cersei reflected.

It was true that she meant to teach her rebellious oldest daughter the value of such womanly weapons as charm, dancing, etiquette, and even embroidery.

But Arya's voracious interest in swordplay was strangely endearing.

Cersei leaned a little further forward over the railing of the small balcony overlooking the north courtyard of the palace. It was deserted, except for Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard and Arya Baratheon, princess of the Seven Kingdoms.

As Cersei watched, Arya lunged at Jaime with the light sword he'd given her for her ninth birthday; it was a slimmer and shorter sibling to her brother Joff's blade, of Valyrian steel.

Arya's strike never landed; Jaime parried, with an elegant flash of metal.

Jaime and Arya, Cersei saw, wore identical exhilarated grins.

"If only she were more like Myrcella," the Septa lamented, at Cersei's elbow. Only the Queen's direct order and her terror of the Kingslayer kept the Septa from hurrying down to the courtyard and confiscating Arya's sword right now.

"Such a dear girl," the Septa went on rhapsodically about Myrcella. "So sweet and beautiful, pious and good—she will be as lovely as you are one day, your Grace."

It was true that Myrcella resembled Cersei greatly, as did her sons, Joffrey and Tommen. Lannister lion cubs, all of them. Cersei joked that sharp, plain, restless Arya was her changeling child.

Jaime saw Cersei then, and lifted his sword briefly in salute.

Her answering smile turned to a delighted laugh when Arya used Jaime's distraction to get under his guard. The tip of her sword, which Joff claimed she had named, 'Needle,' rested lightly against his chest.

Arya dropped her sword and danced in a circle around Jaime, singing, "I win, I win!" at the top of her lungs.

Cersei couldn't hear Jaime's answering comments, but Arya hung her head and then they were getting ready for another round, so she assumed they had been somewhat acerbic.

"She's a disgrace," sniffed the Septa.

"She's just like her father," Cersei breathed, more than half to herself.

"King Robert is famously victorious on the battlefield," the Septa agreed, a little doubtfully.

Cersei looked up at her for the first time. "What?" she said blankly, and then, "Oh! Yes, of course."

She drew her cloak a little closer around her shoulders, and left father and daughter to their favorite amusement.


End file.
